Bound
by That-Fresh-Rain-Smell
Summary: A bit of an odd little oneshot, I've never had Tom in there before. Severus finds harry beaten and bound. The shocking conversation that ensues.


_Bound_

A/N: so, another late-night writing, I admit. I was forced from the comfort of my bed to the cold, hard seat of my computer chair (no cushion, neither!) with the urge to write Rose Petals Snow; a oneshot I had been concocting this very night. Knowing I should do my duty, and complete 'Bound' (rather, _start_ bound) before writing a new one –bound being the one that rose me last night, one I put off in favor of Trial and Scars—I wearily opened this document. I hope you like it!...Oh yes, I really do love writing Snape….

Pain. It was all he felt at the moment. He could feel the dirty cobbles beneath him grate against his naked front as he attempted to move, and the pain intensified. He lay still, trying to lessen the effects by not moving. His arse burned from the unprepared onslaught he had just endured, and numerous wounds decorated his body, getting ground muck in them when he had moved. He whimpered as tears leaked from his eyes, ignoring any sounds that came from the outside world as he concentrated on the immense throbbing. Finally he felt himself receding into darkness, and he happily gave the pain over to numbness.

o.o.o.o.o.o

He stared. He couldn't help it, really. He had been walking briskly down the alley when he came across the body, and now all he could do was look. The boy's boxers were around his ankles, with no other clothing in sight, and his glasses were cracked and broken by his head. His arms were bound behind his back by a thick, knotted cord that he recognized immediately. His eyes were closed, so the green orbs that he knew loomed there could not identify him, but his scar certainly did. The boy had traces of white leaking from his abused entrance, evidence that more than a beating had been done to him. There were cuts and bruises allover his body and he wondered if he had a concussion. Sighing, knowing there was no other option, he bent and grabbed the boy, apparating them away silently.

o.o.o.o.o.o

When Harry woke, he lay in a bed with crisp, white linens, with no trace of his earlier maladies, besides aching bones and weary limbs. He attempted to sit up, and winced. Perhaps he should not try that just yet, if the bursts of pain in his ribs were any sign. He looked around through bleary eyes and noticed a dark form sitting by his bed. He reached out feebly towards it, cursing his weakness and the black something shoved glasses into his hands. He took them and placed them on his nose gratefully, refocusing on the dark shape that was now coming into focus. Snape. Vague memories of the last conscious time he remembered floated back to him, and Harry groaned. Of all the people to find him, Snape had to be the one. He was wondering why fate hated _him_ so much when Snape spoke.

"That was quite a state you were in, Potter. Care to explain it?"

"No," Harry answered at once. Snape glared, and Harry supposed he owed him _something, _even if he didn't like it. Thinking back to what he could remember, he shrugged, and looked at the waiting Snape.

"I would guess it would be obvious," he said lightly. Snape's glare deepened to a glower.

"Yes, Potter, oh so clear. I find you beaten in an alleyway, hands tied behind your back, naked for anyone's purpose, with obvious signs you had been raped. That clears things up." He snapped.

"Well, I suppose if you really must know all the juicy details, Professor, perhaps you will be glad to hear that I was at a pub, and started walking home when I was grabbed from behind. Held against a wall, and taken ever so easily. My wand was gone before I could say Avada Kedavra, and my clothes gone quickly after. I was tied, gagged, and not prepared even the slightest bit. Are you happy?" Snape lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes.

"Not quite. Did you see the attacker, did you know them? Do you have any idea as to who it could be?"

"Why do you _care,_" was Harry's only, witting, response.

"Potter, it was obviously made clear to you a year or so ago that I am to protect you. I cannot do so when I don't know whom to go after!"

"But _why_ do you even try? I mean, it's not like you made an unbreakable vow, or any of that rot." Snape continued to glare.

"That is of no ones concern but my own. Now, answer my questions," his growl of a voice was demanding, and even Harry could not refute it this time.

"I…I knew them. Not by name or face," Snape caught the lie immediately, but allowed Harry to continue uninterrupted. "But in a way, I guess I did. This isn't really the first time, you know. Just more…brutal, than the last few." Harry was looking at his sheets now, like a cowed child. Or someone in pain.

"And why did you allow it to continue? Obviously, if you continued to go to that pub, to walk down that alley, the occurrence was bound to repeat itself! Or perhaps it was a lover, gone wrong, hm? Did you two fight, and you end up the way you did?"

"No…truthfully, I don't know why I allowed it. One night, the first night, I walked from the pub, and the same thing happened. At first I struggled but then…" Harry breathed in, "Then, I suppose, I became more willing. It continued like that, for a while. I never asked questions, we never talked. Then, the last time…well, you saw." Snape sneered.

"A common whore, Potter, to whoever had had you. Now, I suppose, you feel -betrayed? It's just like the whore to fall in love with their master, then, isn't it?" Harry, instead of becoming angered, or any other sort of rash act, merely nodded.

"A bit like that, yeah. Though I can't say I was in love. I know what love is, and that…wasn't it. Maybe an outlet for my frustration and hormones, one that didn't come with the price of a lover who wanted you to talk with them, or whisper shit in their ear as if you would get all cuddly," Harry muttered a rather impressive speech.

"Oh, sure Potter. Who else but you would know of love? Especially when yours tends to kill the recipient. My, it must have been that Cho girl, or perhaps Miss. Weasly, hmm? Yes, that must be your _love_, Potter," Harry glared at him, but kept his own words short.

"If you choose to believe that, then that is your right," was his only response.

"Well, Well, Potter, finally becoming controlled are we? I believe it's an improvement, though you still have that nasty little hero complex, don't you?"

"I would say more of a masochistic tendency, going by the past month. Wouldn't you agree, Snape?" Harry actually smiled. The boy was much too Slytherin these days; very unhealthy for the future savior.

"Indeed," Snape said in that voice of his. Now there was not as much malice behind it, but curiosity. "You are a curiosity in yourself Potter. One would assume you would try and stay _out_ of trouble, but you just walk right into it, do you not? Now, do not lie. I know that you are aware of the man's name, title, every deed he has committed, as am I. Do you think I've never seen his handiwork before, Potter? I have seen and endured such, so let us speak bluntly, for your pitiful lies aggravate me." Harry looked up at him, for the first time there was a scrambling fear in his features.

"What did I _do_?" He asked, attempting to curl up in the bed, but prevented from doing so due to his ribs. He suspected they were broken.

"Apparently, the darkest wizards in the realm. The funny thing is, you _allowed_ it. This is what I wish to know. _Why_?" Harry closed his eyes and laid his head back on the pillow.

"Well, when I couldn't get who I wanted, and the sexual distraction was offered so willingly, without terms or restraints, I took it. I told you, I was frustrated."

"Who did you want so bad you would allow the Dark Lord to have you, if it would _distract you_ long enough?" Snape's voice was biting and condescending, but Harry merely ignored it. (For once)

"One who is most often viewed as the second darkest wizard in the wizarding world." Harry muttered, eyes still closed. Had Harry opened his eyes, he would have had the pleasure of seeing Snape almost dumbfounded. However, he did not, and Snape regained composure quickly.

"You do not mean to imply," he started, tone of voice threatening that if Harry did mean to imply, he would surely hang him from the rafters.

A masochist through and through, Harry almost welcomed the death that would surely await him if he spoke the words he intended. He raised one eyelid slowly to look at Snape squarely.

"I do," he said lazily, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"_Why,_ Potter, would you allow the Dark Lord himself to have you?! Just because you thought you could not have _me!?_" Harry rose ever so slowly to his elbow, eyes open now, one eyebrow raised.

"You said; 'because you _thought_ you couldn't have me,' do you mean to imply I _could_ have you?" he asked. Snape glared.

"The disregard you show for rules, yet again Potter, never ceases to amaze me."

"You didn't answer my question," Harry pointed out, in that still, mild tone.

"And I will not. It is not the subject matter. Answer _my_ question, Potter, and perhaps you will get yours answered at a later time." Harry took this in stride, and answered well enough.

"Truly? Because the Dark Lords promised were too filled with magic to ignore. Had you been me, with him whispering hopes and dreams into your ear as he took you, would you not wish to hear them again, from someone that was not you yourself? Someone who was said to know the inside of Severus Snape's mind better than any?" He regarded Snape with his eyes for a moment. "Though, I highly doubt that."

"I was lonely, true enough, but also eager to hear any slight confirmation that you would want me, no matter how deluded, or who it came from. Also…" Harry stopped there; looking quite angered at himself for letting something slip. Snape jumped on it right away.

"Also? Potter, you'd best tell me or I will pry it from your mind myself!" He threatened. Harry took a breath.

"Well, consider the thought that the Dark Lord knew my desire. Not _desires_, desire. Obviously, he could and would hurt me with it, either telling others, or hurting you. He threatened with telling others, but when that got no response, he threatened you. I had no choice, if I wanted…you, not to…get hurt," he seemed to be choosing his words carefully, aware that anything could set Snape off at this point.

"He threatened you," Snape sighed. "With me." He laughed shortly and stood. "How absurd. Get some rest Potter, and perhaps you might feel better when you wake. Though, I doubt it. With bruised ribs and slashes over your skin that resist healing, I can't see you feeling the least bit better. But, you can hope. Don't bother trying to get up, I've restrained you to your bed, with good reason." And with that he walked briskly to the door. At the threshold, he turned, looking at Harry curiously.

"Oh, and Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry asked, already settling down for a nap.

"The other, older scars on your arms tell of further mutilation. Were you lying when you said he had never sliced your skin before?" Harry shook his head, his black hair dancing across the pillow.

"No, those are my own, and mine alone. From a time when my frustration was taken out on my own body. It has not occurred recently, so don't get too excited." Harry said, raising an arm to look at it. It was quite thoroughly covered, from his wrists to his elbow.

"Potter, how long has this…infatuation been existent?" Snape asked, frowning.

"Oh, I'd say I fessed up to it in about, 5th year. But, before I allowed myself to acknowledge it, perhaps third year." Harry said casually. Snape's frown deepened and he left without another word. Harry, in turn, fell to sleep.

When he woke, the small window held no light, and the room was lit by magic. He looked around the room, but saw no Snape in sight. With his usual Gryffindor foolishness (the earlier Slytherin-ness quite forgotten) he attempted to move out of bed. After hitting the wards, he lay back gasping. His ribs _hurt_. He waited impatiently, until a half an hour later, Snape entered; with food. This alone excited Harry, as Snape set the tray in front of him. He could eat well enough by himself, only having to be careful, and he did, as Snape looked on.

When he had finished, he looked at Snape expectantly.

"What?" the other man asked in an agitated tone.

"Is it later enough, for my answer?" he asked, in an all-too-innocent voice. Snape glowered, but responded in a less-deadly-than-earlier tone.

"I suppose. While I cannot, and will not deny any sort of feelings for you, Potter, I do have a problem with the fact that our ages differ, quite dramatically, and cannot help but think that you could find someone better suited for you." He held his hands up to quiet Harry's protest. "However, since it has been two years since you have admitted to yourself your feelings for me, and, I assume, tried every possible way to distract yourself, or change your mind, I am willing to resign myself to the fact that I will forever be the impending doom upon you." Harry thought the complicated sentence out for a moment, the smiled brightly. Brighter than has ever been seen before, I assure you. Harry attempted to hug Snape to the death (our poor, poor Severus) but was restrained by his ribs, and had to be content with grabbing the mans hand, and refusing to let go, no matter how hard he pulled. Pushing Harry back against the pillow, Snape allowed his lips to briefly and gently graze Harry's before getting all the way up.

"Geeze, don't want to break me," Harry joked, and Snape just looked at him seriously.

"No," he replied. "I do not." When Harry continued to smile his too-bright smile at him, Snape turned to leave. "Get more rest, Harry, you'll heal faster." As Snape walked down the hall, he heard Harry musing to himself; "And the faster I heal…" Snape shook his head. Were all teenagers such…innuendos? Well, he could not claim that his mind had not been along the same lines, for it had. He was just more…Subtle. Yes, that was definitely the word, subtle.

He left for his laboratory before he could hear anything else Harry had to say, and deemed to stay there until Harry healed, for the overpowering urge to jump the boy grew each time he visited.

It seemed that the Dark lord had brought some unexpected happiness, and that certainly brought a smirk to his face. Perhaps he would find him (not that it was hard), and perhaps, in the final battle that was upon them all, he would make the man suffer, and fulfill his duty in that respect.

_A/N: Bleh. So, I'm tired, in the mood to write something else, and cant concentrate enough to reread this to see if it sucks. Well, I hope you all enjoyed it, at least. Review?_

_-Kozy_


End file.
